I don't own The Hobbit, the book or the movie. This fic will be based on the movie, with some tidbits from the book. I do own Astrid and Nerys and their backgrounds, and Idhril, who makes an appearance for all of like, five minutes later on. Treasures is rated for violence mostly, and drinking and smoking. You know how dwarves are. This fic will be written in three parts, one for each of the movies. Please enjoy!
Treasures Lost and Found
—A Prod in the Right Direction
Astrid never got back to sleep.
After tossing and turning for about an hour, she climbed back out of bed and started digging through her bags, navigating through her things by touch, since there wasn't enough light to see anything but vague shapes. Eventually she found what she was looking for: a sheathed knife tucked beneath her clothes, wrapped in a scrap of cloth. It was a keepsake more than a tool and she hadn't had it out in years. When she sat down on the bed, she pulled the cloth off and drew the blade out, the metal gleaming in the faint moonlight.
It was something she'd stolen from Kili when she was little. She'd used it to cut his and Fili's hair in childish retaliation to some incident she couldn't recall and when she'd tried to return the knife to Kili, after several apologies, he'd given it to her as a gift. Astrid had kept the knife to remind her of her time with the dwarves. It did the same thing now, as she spun it with one hand, the point pressed to her forefinger on the opposite hand.
So, she lay in bed and watched the light in the valley change, alternately playing with the knife and trying to sleep. She only climbed to her feet when the sun was bright and golden in the sky and the morning was alive with the sounds of birds, when the valley was waking up. For a few minutes, Astrid stood at the window, her eyes glued to the passage leading out of the Hidden Valley and her mind replaying the departure of the dwarves with the knife still gripped in one hand.
She gave her head a shake and mumbled a curse at herself; it was time to get moving, no matter how melancholy she felt. She changed into a clean white shirt and pulled her green tunic on, belting it in place. She braided her hair, the tail falling almost to the middle of her back, and laced on her boots. Out of habit, Astrid went to slide her knives into place on her belt, but remembered at the last second she'd lost one to the attacking goblins. She sighed as she slid her one remaining knife home, and then turned her attention elsewhere. After a few seconds of thought, Astrid slid the knife give to her by Kili into her boot, securing it in place with a spare strip of leather. The weight was oddly comforting.
As she started gathering her things, she heard soft footsteps behind her.
"Are you preparing to take your leave, Astrid?"
The human woman straightened and smiled at Lindir, who stopped in the doorway. "I am healed and I feel I have taken advantage of Lord Elrond's hospitality for long enough. I am anxious to be on the road again."
Lindir nodded once, the simple movement elegant in the way only elves could manage. "Lord Elrond made mention of wanting to speak with you before you departed. Would you oblige?"
"Of course, though I am not sure what he would have to speak with me about."
Lindir gave an enigmatic little smile and started walking, knowing Astrid would fall in beside him. Astrid hadn't expected Lindir to know the answer, but it felt better to voice her confusion anyway. They moved in silence through the airy halls of Rivendell, Astrid's head on a swivel to take in as much of the beauty of the place as she could before she left; she may have spent a good deal of time in the elven settlement, but it always seemed there was more to see. She inhaled deeply, the scent of the trees and the water and sunshine a comforting thing, though it did little to cheer Astrid up. When they reached the solar where Astrid had met with Elrond after recovering from her injury, Astrid smiled at Lindir. She would have given him a hug, had elves been bigger on physical contact, but she settled for the expression and a quick nod and knew Lindir picked up on the sentiment.
Inside the solar, she found Elrond seated at the table, engrossed in a map of the lands lying east of the Misty Mountains, a pile of books and papers sitting to his right. Astrid approached the table and sketched a quick curtsey when the elven lord looked up. He smiled and gestured at the chair to his left.
"Lindir said you wished to speak me with before I left?"
Elrond nodded. "I did. You have recovered well enough to travel?"
"Yes, though I would not have had you not healed me. I don't think I would have survived long otherwise. Thank you once again for all you have done."
"You are most welcome. I trust you have enjoyed your time in Rivendell?"
Astrid's cheeks reddened before she could try and stop the blush from happening, and she looked down, a small smile on her lips. She heard something that might have been a laugh from Lord Elrond and she looked up, the smile growing. "I did. It was a nice surprise seeing the dwarves again. I have fond memories of my time in the Blue Mountains." Elrond's smile turned warmer and Astrid gave a small laugh, pushing some stray strands of hair back from her face. "Was there a message you wanted me to deliver to my father?" she asked once they moment had passed.
Elrond shook his head. "Not this time, Astrid." He paused, his brow furrowing above a contemplative frown. "Are you sure your path lies to the west?"
"I… I am not sure what you mean," she said, though her mind had immediately jumped to one location, but why Elrond would direct her towards Erebor, she had no idea.
He waved it off with a quick gesture. "Pay it no mind." Astrid nodded, the frown still on her face, and Elrond gestured to the knife at her hip. "You lost the other blade when you were attacked, I presume. Lindir will see to it you are properly armed again before you make for the Shire."
Astrid blinked and then smiled. "Any chance you have a bow in my size?"
When Astrid returned to her room a little while later, she had a new set of knives on her hips—long, elegant elvish blades with green detailing on the hilts she'd immediately taken a liking to—and a bow and quiver strung across her body. The bow had probably been made for a child, though Lindir couldn't recall having ever seen it in use, but it was in good shape and the proper size for Astrid.
She removed the new weapons and laid them on the bed as she set about packing up her things; it was amazing how much she'd spread out when she had no real recollection of putting anything anywhere except her bags. It wasn't until all her clothes were folded and packed away with the other various tools and things she carried and she was doing a final sweep of the room that she noticed the book sitting on the table under the window. It was her journal, the book Kili had been writing in the night before.
Almost hesitantly, Astrid picked up the book and flipped it open to where the writing stopped. All the latest pages were in her handwriting, but there were notes stuck in the margins, matching up with her coverage of the time in Rivendell. They were written in an unfamiliar hand—it had to be Kili's writing.
A smile moved across Astrid's face as she read the notes. Most of them were concerned with her archery technique, but a few focused elsewhere: on her skill with knives, which he found impressive, and the colour of her eyes, but that one had been scribbled over more than once. The last comment had also been crossed out, but she could make out the word "Erebor" beneath the black ink. Astrid found the smile still on her lips, and warmth in her cheeks as she read the comments a few times over, her mind running back over the days the dwarves have been in Rivendell, over the words and the touches and the looks.
Then her mind moved to the quest, of how the dwarves were fighting to get their home back, of how there were only thirteen of them, plus one hobbit and a wizard, sometimes, and they were going up against a dragon.
Perhaps her course did not lie to the west.
"Do you believe it?"
"I honestly don't know anymore, brother. It has been a long time since I spared the time to think about her."
Dwalin sighed and rubbed at his face, trying to rid himself of the frustration that had been mounting since Thorin's initial disclosure of the information of Nerys's possible survival. It had been a long time since he'd thought about her beyond the odd memory here and there and it hurt. He hadn't believed it at first—how could he? But as they'd hiked from Rivendell, he'd let his mind wander and he'd actually let himself consider the possibility his sister was alive. Alive and stuck.
"Think about it now, Balin. Do you think she could actually be alive?"
If the older brother was alarmed by the sudden intense tone in Dwalin's voice, he didn't show it. Balin scratched at his cheek, just above his beard. They trudged along in silence for a few minutes as Balin considered his brothers words. The dwarves were fairly spread out along the ridge, giving Balin and Dwalin space to talk about the sensitive topic, not that Balin would have brought it up without provocation regardless of the situation.
"I suppose anything is possible," Balin finally answered, even though he knew the influx of emotions the words would cause. "I never thought we would see Erebor again, and now we are crossing the world to take the mountain back from a dragon."
Silence fell again and the dwarves continued forward, trekking over the rising and falling land between Rivendell and The Misty Mountains. As he did every once in a while, Thorin fell back from the lead spot of the procession to join Balin and Dwalin, though this time, his expression indicated he knew something was up. He didn't say anything, but clocked the expressions on the faces of his oldest friends. The tension between the trio rose significantly, until Dwalin finally cracked.
"If Nerys is alive—"
"Dwalin, we are not talking about her."
"It's possible—"
"She is not alive!" Thorin snapped with more force than before. "And getting our hopes up will only result in bringing old pain to the surface." Thorin's expression turned sympathetic and a little pained. "Do you not think she would have tried to find us by now if she was alive?"
"Maybe she tried," Dwalin persisted. "She would have no way of knowing where we had gone."
"Dwalin—"
The big dwarf cut Balin off with a curt gesture and kept his eyes on Thorin as the dwarf prince walked beside him. "You know as well as I how she was raised—like any of our other women: sheltered, guarded. She's never been out of Erebor on her own, and never farther than Esgaroth, even when someone was with her." He narrowed his eyes and let all his hope for Nerys fuel his words. "And if the dragon's fire wounded her grievously enough for you to think her dead, then perhaps she was incapable of leaving. Perhaps she is still incapable of leaving, or perhaps she does not remember who she is, or perhaps the trauma has left her too terrified to step outside of Lake Town regardless of how much she may want to—"
"Dwalin!" Thorin yelled, loud enough to draw the attention of some of the closer dwarves. It took only a few seconds for the entire company to turn their attention to the scene. They didn't draw any closer, but they were watching. "There could be a thousand reasons she did not come looking for us if she survived, but she did not survive!" Something wild passed over Thorin's face, something that kept Dwalin and Balin silent. "She cannot have survived. I would have known it."
The last part was barely more than a whisper, but Balin and Dwalin heard it nonetheless. As they had stopped walking, Balin approached Thorin and placed a hand on his shoulder. Whatever anger remained on the topic escaped with Thorin's held breath.
"It is not your fault, Thorin," he said. "I have told you as much before, but maybe it has been too long since you have heard the words. There was nothing you could have done to save her."
"I could have kept her from fighting."
Dwalin snorted from behind Thorin and Balin. This was a familiar conversation. It felt better than speculation. A small smile came to Balin's lips on the heels of Dwalin's laughter.
"Do you really think you could have kept her from doing anything she wanted? Especially if it meant leaving you at the mercy of a dragon?" Balin squeezed Thorin's shoulder, his aged face echoing Thorin's earlier sympathy. "Nerys loved you more than anything, Thorin. She wasn't going to leave you there. She wouldn't have left any of us there."
"She's not alive Balin," Thorin repeated, his head shaking slightly and his eyes closing.
Balin clapped Thorin on the shoulder and sighed before he started walking again, the other dwarves taking the movement as a sign they were to continue onward. Thorin and Dwalin remained beside each other as they walked.
"If she is alive and well—" Dwalin started.
"She will have our heads for leaving her behind."
Dwalin smiled and nodded, chuckling under his breath. A few beats of silence passed before Dwalin continued pushing. He just couldn't let the topic drop. "Do you think she would have tried to leave if she could?"
Thorin huffed and turned his attention forward, squinting into the distance. Dwalin didn't think the dwarf prince was looking at their path. It was several minutes before Thorin answered, long enough for Dwalin to think he wasn't going to answer. "She would have tried, but I do not think she would have succeeded. Now, please, I do not wish to talk or think of her anymore."
Dwalin nodded again and watched as Thorin returned to the head of the line. He gave his head a shake and made himself think of Erebor, of home, of killing the damned dragon.
"Have you ever heard Uncle talk about this Nerys?" Kili asked as he leaned against a nearby tree.
The dwarves had stopped to have something to eat on the edge of a stand of trees. Thorin was keeping to the edge of the group, his eyes scanning the land around them. Balin and Dwalin were engaged in more quiet conversation next to the fire. Ori was sketching some of the plants in the area and chatting with Bilbo, and the others were eating and talking and telling stories—standard for downtime. Fili and Kili were sitting in the shade off of to one side, attempting to catch a few minutes of rest before they continued towards the Misty Mountains.
"Never. Who do you think she was?"
"Someone from Erebor and someone Balin and Dwalin knew as well."
Fili rolled his eyes as he lit his pipe, the beads in his mustache clinking against it. "I'd say that is a good assumption, Kili."
The younger brother smiled and dropped to the ground beside Fili, pulling his own pipe from his bag and lighting it. The smoke curled around their heads. "She must have been someone important if Uncle will not talk about her. He has told us much about Erebor. Why leave her out?"
Fili shrugged. "I assume she is dead. Killed when Smaug attacked."
They lapsed into silence after that, as there didn't seem to be anything else to say on the matter, though they were both still curious as to whom Nerys actually was. After the near screaming match between Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin, it was likely all the members of the company were curious.
"Do you recall anything about Bran's daughter?" Kili asked suddenly.
"She cut our hair while we slept, made me break my toe, and hid my knives—yes, I remember her Kili." The brothers chuckled at the sarcasm and the memories. "Why do you ask?"
"Do you remember her name?"
"No, though I remember Dwalin calling her 'little one,'" Fili answered, his confusion at the questions plain on his face. "I am still unsure what you are after with these questions."
Kili chewed on the end of his pipe for a few beats, debating whether or not he should share his suspicions with Fili. Something Astrid had said during a conversation they'd had while walking through the halls of Rivendell, something about being uncomfortable with heights because of a childhood incident had struck him as familiar—the same sort of familiarity Kili had felt the first time he'd seen Astrid, teaching herself archery. It had been that night he'd remembered the tinker's daughter getting stuck up a tree after she'd cut Fili and Kili's hair, and moments later when his mind had made the possible connection. He wasn't sure how Fili would react to the idea; he wasn't even sure how he felt about the idea. The tinker's daughter had caused a lot of trouble for the brothers, but they had also been fond of her. That Astrid could be that little girl…
Kili shook his head and settled back against the tree trunk. "It is nothing important," Kili said.
"You know, I am not sure I believe that."
One thing I hate about the chapter by chapter format: people pass judgement on characters before getting all the information.
Anyways, ignore my ramblings—I hope you enjoy this chapter!